


It's All Downhill From Here

by lukrezius



Category: PewDiePie (YouTube RPF), Youtuber RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Septiplier - Freeform, The Last of Us AU, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukrezius/pseuds/lukrezius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Septiplier AU fic loosely based on the Last of Us. Mark is a reluctant mercenary for a rebel group called Scarab, tasked with smuggling a mysterious boy called Jack from one base to another.<br/>What will happen when Mark starts to see Jack as more than just a mission?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The City

**Author's Note:**

> before u say anything yes this is trash. bear with me.  
> planning on having maybe 5-6 chapters (who fcking knows tbh), dividing this story by location. 
> 
> some details of the post-/apocalypse situation: the plague broke out when Mark was 14 and Jack was 12. They are now 25 and 23 respectively. The breakout of the plague is known as the Fall.
> 
> 1\. Plaguers are people infected by the plague, basically zombies. 2. Scavengers are people who don't live in a city. 3. Cities are just walled cities guarded by the army/government. 4. Unnatural are people who were infected by the plague but survived and are left with weird pigmentation. Unnatural are outcast by the government and society due to distrust.

Mark shifted in line, queueing behind two other mercenaries in the hopes of finding a job. Paid violence had long since become legal, and despite the number of people needing protection and intimidation, the sheer numbers of people offering themselves as mercs meant only the best got jobs. Despite being good, Mark was young, and had only recently rejoined the mercenaries, meaning few missions came his way. 

“Fish back?” said a voice at Mark’s elbow, and he turned and stared at the man for several seconds.

“Uh..” Mark said, “Fischbach?”

The man looked irritated. “Yeah. Whatever. That you?”

“Yes.” Mark said slowly, glancing back at the merc office as the man at the front of the queue left. “Can I help you?”

“Come with me.” he snapped, and turned on his heel to hurry away from Mark. Mark looked around, confused, but no one in the dingy waiting room was paying him any attention. He followed.

He was led outside, under the dead orange sky, and through the monochrome, muted streets. He followed the man to a door, but hesitated when he stopped outside and gestured for Mark to go in. 

“What is this?” Mark said, resting his hand at his side, when one of his guns was strapped. The man glanced at his hand and rolled his eyes. “Go.” he said, pointing at the door. Mark looked at the door, up at the building, and then swallowed and pushed his way inside. “Upstairs.” said the guy from behind him, and Mark flicked a hand over his shoulder as he made his ascent.

On the first floor, a door stood open, painted starkly white. Mark could hear the murmur of several people from inside. He moved forward, then stopped suddenly as he realised who was in there.

“No.” he said quietly, and then again, loud enough for everyone to stop talking and turn to him. He stared at them, a faint feeling of dread curling into his stomach. “I’ve quit.” he said, “You know that.” He turned to leave. 

“Mark, wait, hear us out.” Mark looked back at the woman speaking, who was now standing up behind her desk. He looked around at the others in the room, recognising some faces, many of whom nodded or smiled at him. He bit his lip and returned his focus to the woman. “I’m done with you people. You know why.”

They were the Scarab organisation, a group of revolutionaries and zealots determined to change the military government that had been forced upon the people left after the Fall. Mark had joined their ranks as a result of being too young at the time to choose his own way, and had never looked back after quitting. He’d thought he’d left that life behind.

“I’m not Scarab anymore. I’m staying on the right side of the law. I want to keep my head above the water.”

“Mark, we need you for this. You’re our only hope. You know the cities better than anyone else, and all the secret passages and shortcuts. You’re employed too, legally, which is the perfect cover.”

Mark shook his head. “No. No way.”

“Please, Mark. The mission, it.. It’s to protect people like me. Like your mother and sister.”

Mark closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The woman, Quinn, had dark skin and eyes, but her hair, concealed beneath a cap, was bone-white. She was an Unnatural, people whose genetics had been altered by the events of the Fall. They were those that had survived the plagues, and the only remnant of the diseases were strange pigmentations. They were feared by many, killed by the military with no interrogation or trial. The Scarabs provided safety for Unnaturals, one of their many missions, and aimed to integrate them back into society after taking over the government. Yeah, like that would happen.

Mark sighed slowly. He knew many others in this room, former brothers- and sisters-in-arms of his, were also Unnatural. He knew he had to do the right thing. 

“What do I have to do?”

Quinn smiled. “Smuggle.”

\--

Mark slid over walls and under razor-wire, between slats in fences and through giant tanks and cisterns. He unwrapped bandages from his forearm and studied the information he had written there. Dormitory block seven. Floor three. Window by the dead tree, curtains open. Well, he was at the right building, so he skirted the perimeter, looking for a tree amongst the litter, scrubbery and machinery. The military school was well-guarded, but had a low tech budget, meaning most of the guarding was done with people instead of cameras or motion sensors. This also meant Mark could find a gap in the patrols. 

He found the tree, and paced back from the dormitory block to check the windows. Sure enough, one had open curtains, and a faint blue light was shining out. Mark darted back to the wall, and started to scale it, staying in the shadow of the dead tree to avoid the light emanating from the machinery around the base of the building. He pulled himself onto the windowsill and through the window, which was open. He had hardly set foot inside when something cool and sharp was pressed against his throat.

Mark went still, meeting the eyes of the boy- no, man- that was holding the blade to his neck. Meeting the eye, actually, as one was covered by a bandage slanting over half his forehead, over one eye, and under his ear to wrap around his head. Mark held his breath, not wanting to swallow and move his throat against the knife.

“Who are you?” he asked Mark in a low voice, barely audible. “I don’t recognise you.”

“I’m with Scarab.” Mark said, equally quietly. 

“Prove it.”

“Your name is really Sean. Your false name is Jack. You’re an Unnatural.” Mark watched as he flinched at his real name, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for eavesdroppers, when Mark mentioned he was an Unnatural. He, reluctantly, lowered the blade. Mark looked at the unconscious body on the bed across the room.

“Is he alive?” Mark asked, mindful of the knife now held in Jack’s hand.

“Yeah. Scarab gave me sedative to give him, weeks ago.” So, Scarab had anticipated that Mark would take this mission, long before he knew about it. That’s the Scarab he knew.

Mark glanced around the room, and sat on the edge of Jack’s bed, the owner of which then looked at him as if he was crazy. “Aren’t we going?”

“No, we have to wait for a patrol to go round. It’ll give us a window of time to get out. We have, uh, ten minutes.” Jack nodded, picking up a small bag before sitting on the floor opposite Mark, back against the wall, forearms resting on his raised knees. He was still, but Mark could see how pale he was, and knew he was nervous.

“Is this the first time you’ve been outside?” Mark asked, breaking the silence.

“Out of the school? No, I’ve had to sneak out to meet Scarab agents. But out of the city, yeah, of course.” 

Mark remembered the first time he’d been out of a city, the sour feeling of nervousness in his belly, his hand constantly on his gun, checking over his shoulder every other second. He had been scared sick, despite being with a group of people who all knew what they were doing.

Jack must be even more fearful, having never met Mark before, yet having to be dependent on him to break them both out of the city.

“What are you, Scottish?” Mark asked, and Jack’s mouth twisted, but in humor or anger, Mark couldn’t tell.

“Somethin’ like that.”

\--

Jack’s heart was in the base of his throat as he followed him through a hole cut neatly into the fence. “What’s your name?” Jack asked suddenly, realising he didn’t know.

“Mark,” the other man muttered, hands working to pick a lock. 

“Here,” Jack said, “Let me.” Mark hesitated, then passed him the lock-picker. Jack handed it back to him, instead pulling out a couple of paperclips and crouching down to work. The door swung open. 

“Piece of shit anyway.” Mark said, dropping the lock-picker back into his bag.

Jack followed him out of the academy grounds, looking back briefly at what he felt would be the last time he saw the menacing cluster of buildings. They traveled through some gloomy alleyways populated by hookers and beggars, but Mark pulled up his hood and carried on walking, ignoring the hands that grabbed at his dark clothes. Jack increased his speed to walk in the relative safety of Mark’s wake. They emerged onto the open streets, and Jack felt suddenly like he could breathe again.

“Do you have a fake ID? And passport?” Mark asked, slowing to walk beside Jack. It was well after dark, yet the streets were full of people despite not being lit by anything. The only light came from state run organisations, such as merc offices, brothels and trade posts. 

“Yeah, I do.” Jack said, fishing them from his bag.

“Alright, good, we’ll pass through this checkpoint then leave the city from the other side, I know a place to get out.” Mark dropped his voice as he relayed this to Jack.

They queued for the checkpoint for what seemed like hours, and Jack was sure that everyone could see his fidgeting for what it was: the fear of being caught. Everyone, to him, looked like a soldier or a guard, someone who had found his half-empty dorm room, set off the alarm and was on the search for him. 

“Papers, please.” said the man sitting in the barred little office at the checkpoint. They slid over their IDs and passports after walking the short distance to the counter. The man glanced over Marks, flicking a practiced eye over him, lining him up with the notes on his papers.

“Reason for visit?” he asked, dully, patting the stamper in green ink.

“We’re visiting friends.” Mark said.

“Duration of visit?”

“Four days.” he replied, and Jack had to admire his confidence under pressure.

He picked up Jack’s ID, flipping to the page with his information. 

“Remove the wrappings from your face please,” the man said, flattening the little book out on his desk. Jack felt a lightning bolt of fear twist through him. He glanced up at Mark, who immediately said, “He can’t, it’s infected.”

The man looked up, faint concern in his eyes. “Infected.” he repeated slowly.

“Not the plague. Just, a scratch. We don’t want to take any chances.”

Mark stared at the guard, then discreetly pushed something through the slot to him. Food tokens, maybe, or weapon tokens. Money had little value these days. Jack held his breath as the man glanced between their two hooded figures, then stamped a green rectangle onto Jack’s passport. 

Jack let out a sigh of relief as they crossed into the eastern sector of the city.

“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t take the fucking bandage off?” Mark hissed, his voice quiet despite his anger.

“You didn’t ask.” Jack said back. Petty, but true.

“What’s wrong with it? Your eye?”

“I’ll show you some other time. Not here, now.” Jack said, tugging the bandage over his eye down.

\--

The sky was nearing dawn when they got to the place where Mark swore he could get them out, which turned out to be an abandoned sewer, covered by trash and debris. Mark cleared enough away to reveal a large, circular, inky black hole. “Down you go.”

“Me?” Jack asked, “Why do I have to go first?” 

“So I can pull all this back over after me. Just go, it’s perfectly safe and we’re running out of darkness.”

Jack sat on the edge of the tube, his feet disappearing into the yawning darkness, then pushed himself off. He found himself sliding down a pitch-black, but thankfully dry, slope, before slowing to a halt after what seemed like hours of cool, rushing wind in his ears. 

He was aware, strangely, of space all around him. Which direction did he go in? This tunnel seemed to split off into many others. He blinked into the darkness, reaching out and touching a hand to the cold cement wall to ground himself in his blindness. Now would not be a good time to find out that he was claustrophobic.

He heard a faint hissing sound, then felt disturbance in the air as Mark approached. He was heavier, though, and had more momentum, and crashed straight into Jack after sliding down the sewer. 

“Hey-” Jack squeaked,  
“Sorry-”  
“Why didn’t y-”  
“Hold on.” Mark said, and there was a click, and the small, cave-like complex of tubes around them was lit up by a bright orange light, streaming from the torch in Mark’s hand.

“Oh,” Jack said, blinking in the sudden light. “Neat.”

\--

Mark led the way, crawling on hands and knees, to where the tube they were in opened up into a larger space, where many small sewers would have joined to make one large one. A thin beam of daylight shone through a grille, far away in the ceiling, but did little to light up the tunnel. Despite this, Mark turned off his torch, leaving them in the gloom. They were sitting against the wall, looking down the larger tunnel, resting their backs on the cement beneath the smaller sewer they had come through. If Jack craned his neck right, he could catch a glimpse of baked-orange mid-morning sky. 

“We’ll have to stay here until dark, we’re too close to the city to risk travelling in the day.”

Jack nodded, agreeing, as he knew people would have realised his absence and be looking in the area for him. It might take them all of today to search the area around the academy, but any movement from the outside close to the city raised suspicion, and they did not need search patrols being sent out to investigate.

“You can sleep, if you like. We’ll be travelling for a while, and only at night, so it’s best to get your sleep pattern adjusted as soon as you can.” Mark said, his voice soft. 

“You will.. keep watch?” Jack asked, biting the inside of his mouth. 

“Yeah, of course, though no one except Scarab knows that these tunnels aren’t full of shit.”

“Alrighty then.” Jack said, dropping his backpack between his legs and settling his head back, before reaching behind his head and untying the bandage, keeping his eyes closed all the while.

\--

Mark couldn’t see any physical indication of the problem with Jack’s eye when it was closed. There was no scar over the lid, or bruising or burning, just the same, translucent veined skin and dark eyelashes as the other eye. Mark waited, letting himself doze slightly as the tunnel warmed throughout the day. Jack stayed asleep, unmoving except for one moment where he slid sideways slightly, down the wall, stopping when his temple rested on Mark’s shoulder. He must be exhausted, Mark realised, after the stress of the night before.

When dusk approached, Mark turned his head to look down at Jack. 

“Hey.” Mark said, then, when that got no reaction, bounced his shoulder a little.

“Oh.” Jack said, pulling his head away, seemingly taking a couple seconds to realise where he was. And he looked up at Mark, and Mark felt his mouth drop open slightly.

For Jack’s left eye, despite having the same purplish shadows beneath as everyone else in the city, was completely white, except for his pupil, as if someone had just erased his iris. His other eye was normal, blue, and filling with realisation as he touched the skin beneath his eye and realised he had taken off his bandage. “Oh.” Jack said again, scrambling for the strip of fabric, avoiding Mark’s gaze.

“It’s okay, Jack. You don’t have to hide.” 

Jack stilled, the bandage pulled tight in his hands. “I want to hide it.” he said, slowly, almost angrily.

“Alright.” said Mark. “It’s almost dark, we should get going.”

\--

Night was the safest time to be out of the city, Jack was beginning to realise, after being boosted up, out of the tunnel, pulling Mark up after him. It was still not very safe, though. 

Once, as they journeyed through the night-bound, neverending wasteland that surrounded the city, torch-beams appeared, sweeping over dirt and rubble. “Shit,” Mark hissed,“Get down,” and Jack did, but apparently not fast enough, as he found himself being thrown to the ground under his companion.

Mark’s breathing sounded calm, but Jack’s hand was trapped painfully between the ground and his chest, and he could feel Mark’s heartbeat thudding. Jack swallowed and closed his eyes as he heard voices and footsteps get closer, his eyelashes brushing against the inside of his bandages. 

“I don’t know why they’re sending us out here, honestly.”

“A kid on his own couldn’t have got over the city walls.”

“Maybe Scarab was involved.”

“They don’t exist. Just a bunch of vandals.”

“But- the bombing?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about that.”

Bombing? Jack mouthed at Mark, after the voices and torches had passed their hiding spot. Mark shrugged, shaking his head.

“Maybe Scarab was trying to give us a diversion to get away from the city.”Mark mused, uncertain.

“Huh. Nice of them.”

“Not so nice. They’re trigger happy as all hell, probably couldn’t wait to have an excuse to bomb something.” Mark said irritably as he poked his head up, scouting around to see if the coast was clear. Jack watched the long curve of his neck, lit from behind by the low, reddish moon. The bump in his throat shifted as he swallowed.

“I think we’re good.” he said, and pushed himself to his feet.

“Aren’t you Scarab?” Jack asked, beginning to trail after him again.

“I was. Once.”

Jack frowned. “Why have they sent you to smuggle me then?”

“I’m the best at smuggling, apparently. And you’re important to them.”

Jack fell silent again, concentrating on traversing the difficult terrain. They were leaving the city behind, it stood as a huge, dark mass on the skyline behind them. They would hit the ghost towns soon, vast stretches of dead towns, inhabited only by scavengers and plaguers. They had long been picked clean of anything useful, Mark had told him, but they were full of remnants of the times before the Fall, like photo albums and books and shops full of shit no one had any use for anymore. 

They crested a hill, staying low in the half-light, not wanting to see seen by anyone in the town. It sprawled out beneath them, lit here and there with fires. They would wait till nightfall again to approach it, as scavengers retreated back to their dwellings when darkness approached. Scavengers feared plaguers as much as those living in the cities. 

“C’mon.” Mark said, stepping through the space where one of the four walls of a building should be. Jack followed, picking his way over the remains of the roof and first floor, now lying as rubble around his feet. 

“We’ll have to stop here, for now.”

“We’re far from the city,” Jack said, as Mark dropped his bag and sat down on a stack of bricks. “We wouldn’t be seen if we carry on.”

“Yeah, well,” Mark said, closing his eyes and settling his head back against a crumbling wall. “I’m tired.”

Jack stood there in silence for several seconds, watching him. When it seemed like he was serious about having a nap, right there and then, Jack sat down, cross-legged on the remains of a table. He rested his chin in his hand, drawing out one of his knives to poke idly at the wood with. 

“You do know where we’re headed, right?” Jack asked, suddenly. Mark opened his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t even know you, bro.” 

“Don’t ‘bro’ me, bro.” Mark said, smirking.

“Who are you?” Jack said, “If you’re not Scarab?” It was past dawn, by now, and Mark’s skin was golden in the sunlight. It occurred to Jack that he’d never seen him in daylight before.

“I’m just a guy, that owes them some.”

Jack sensed that Mark didn’t want to dwell on it. 

“Hey,” Mark said, squinting and leaning towards him, “Is your hair.. Green?”

“Oh, balls,” Jack said, reaching up to touch his hairline self consciously. “It.. it grows in green. Part of.. Well, how I was affected by the Plague. It made my eye white and my hair green.”

“Oh, awesome.” Mark said, and Jack looked surprised. 

“You’re shitting me. It’s freakish.” Jack said, feeling himself go hot under Mark’s scrutiny. His hair grew, in a stripe down the middle of his head, a bright grassy green. The rest of his hair was dark, short, greyish brown. “Scarab would sneak me hair dye every few months, in exchange for any info I could find about the military programme. I’ll probably have to shave it now.”

“What? Your hair? Why?” Mark asked.

“Well,” Jack shrugged. “I haven’t got any hair dye, and people will know I’m an Unnatural.”

“Who cares? We’re outside the city, we can kill anyone we meet, no problem.” Mark said, and Jack looked shocked. Mark realised how that sounded, and hastily added, “I mean to say, the military aren’t out here, not this far from home. No one out here cares about Plague survivors, and no one will kill you over being Unnatural.” 

Jack smiled slightly, looking at the scrawny weeds fighting for life between the broken concrete. He reached up and unpinned the back of the wrappings around his head, unwinding the long strip of cloth until he could open his discoloured eye to the light. Mark was watching him carefully, not saying anything or moving, much like someone trying not to startle a timid deer. His eyelashes were dark against his skin, pale from living indoors for years, and Jack looked around with a slightly off-kilter gaze; he was unused to seeing with two eyes. 

“What’s it like?” Mark asked quietly.

Jack smiled, fully, teeth showing, and Mark felt his heart flutter. “Everything has depth.” Jack said, almost adjusted to the change.


	2. The Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Mark continue their journey through the dangerous, ravaged lands left after the Fall. Their path leads them through a town left dead and abandoned by its inhabitants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter gets a lil more gay. and some new characters are introduced ;----) (also did anyone get the papers please ref from the last chapter??)

As dusk approached, Mark brought out some of the food he’d packed, and they ate a flavourless, cold meal. Jack sawed at the erratic tufts of his beard that were growing, trying not to accidently slash his face open.

Mark watched him in silence for a moment, then rummaged through his bag and passed him a pair of scissors. “Thanks,” Jack muttered, going pink.

He’d just about finished when the eerie, flat silence was broken by the distant, echoing barking of dogs. Mark and Jack’s eyes met, and they sat, stock-still, listening. Jack got to his feet, hurrying to the window that overlooked the ghost town, but Mark grabbed him by the handle of his backpack, pulling him to a stop. 

“We don’t want to be seen, remember?”

“But what could they be barking at?” Jack asked, peering around the edge of the open space where glass would have been. “The town looks deserted.”

“Maybe-” Mark said, “Maybe there are just wild dogs.” 

Jack wasn’t reassured, but he didn’t object when Mark led the way through the crumbling houses of what was the old suburbs, towards the sprawl of the town.

The roads of the town were deserted, which Jack had expected, but it was still surreal to walk along on the yellow painted lines amongst the rusted husks of cars, his and Mark’s footsteps the only sound in the ringing silence.

“There are no birds,” Jack said quietly, and Mark turned his head to look at him. “There are no birds. That’s why it’s so silent.”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I noticed. No insects either, except roaches, maybe. It would be spring, too, right about now, so there should be a hell of a lot of bugs around.”

Jack didn’t reply, but disappeared momentarily from view as he turned a corner at an intersection. Mark had stopped to stare up at the giant building reaching up on all sides. The city they had left was made of low-rise buildings, none over four or five floors, as the engineering needed for huge buildings no longer existed. The skyscrapers that surrounded him were making him feel claustrophobic. 

“Holy shite.” Mark’s gaze dropped back down to street level as he heard Jack’s exclamation. “Mark, shit, come look at this.”

“Don’t go too far from me.” Mark said as he slid over the hood of car, dropping down the other side to round the corner where Jack was. Jack was crouching in the middle of the street, surrounded by bits of.. paper?

“Mark,” he said, laughing, “Mark, they’re notes.”

“Notes?”

“Dollars.” Jack said, holding one out to him. Mark took it. A fifty. He hadn’t seen old money for over ten years, and the waxy paper that everyone had once coveted now seemed unfamiliar to him.

“Holy shit indeed.” Mark said, a sort of incredulous smile on his face. Even at night, the sky was a murky grey, with enough residual pollution to see by. The street was full of small rectangles of paper, blown out across the road from the huge bank sitting between a laundrette and a Subway. Jack picked up handfuls of bills, throwing them in the air and Mark laughed as they rained down, catching in his clothes and hair. “They’re completely worthless.” Jack said, tearing a twenty in half without hesitation. “That’s why they’re about the only thing in this town that hasn’t been taken by scavengers.”

At the mention of scavengers, Mark dropped the cash he’d been looking at, and glanced over his shoulder, down the endless maze of roads. “We should stay on guard,” he warned Jack, “Scavengers could be around.”

“Give me a gun, then.” Jack said, from where he was crouched on the floor. 

“No.” Mark said, and Jack’s face fell.

“Why not?” 

“I don’t trust you with one.”

“You don’t trust me?” Jack said, his voice raising in disbelief. “You’re the one dragging me across half the country on some unspecified mission!”

Mark rolled his eyes, following the scattered piles of cash to the bank that they, explosion-like, were coming from. The large, wooden double doors had been broken off their hinges, and were now lying, vastly, in the entrance to the bank. Mark climbed onto one of them, shining a torch around the gloomy marble interior. The floors were covered in bills of every amount, tens and fives and hundreds all mixed together.

Mark heard the weathered wood groan as Jack stepped up behind him. “Mark,” he said, clicking his torch on. Mark pulled one of his guns out of his belt, trying to see if there were any plaguers or scavengers inside. “Mark.” Jack said again, more forcefully.

“What?” Mark said, turning to look at him.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Mark paused. “I don’t even know you, bro.”

“Don’t bro- oh.” Jack stopped, staring at something over Mark’s shoulder with disgust. Mark followed his gaze, his torch beam joining Jack’s on the wall. “Fuck.” Jack said, quietly.

There were nooses, Mark saw, with a grimace, hanging from the railings of corridors wrapping around the inside of the building. “Fuck.” Mark agreed, when the circle of white made by his torch landed on a pile of bodies. 

Mark heard Jack swallow nervously. Mark stepped forward, seeing a glimmer of white amongst the tattered remains of uniforms. “Oh,” Mark said, reaching out with the toe of his boot and disturbing the pile. “They’ve been dead a long while, Jack.” he reassured him, as several yellowing bones rolled onto the marble floor. “Just bones now.”

Jack had come to stand next to him, a little closer than he ever had before. Mark was glad he wasn’t alone, at least, this place was giving him the creeps. Jack looked up at the nooses.

“Easy way out.” Mark said, eyes narrowing in distaste.

“It’s not so easy.” Jack muttered, and felt Mark’s eyes turn to him. 

Jack met his gaze for a moment. Mark seemed to be on the edge of saying something, apologising maybe, so Jack turned and started across the room to where a huge vault door was hanging open.

“Hey,” Jack said, “Struck gold.” 

“I guess what they say about the Irish is true. Leprechauns and pots of gold, huh.”

Jack smiled, his back to Mark. “Funny.”

Mark wandered into the vault, and would have got lost in the inky darkness if it wasn’t for Jack’s light. He touched his fingertips to the top bar of gold on the stack. “This is crazy. I guess I should have realised this is what it would be like in a ghost town.”

Jack sighed. “Come on. Let’s get through this part of town before dawn.”

\---

They had just made their way over a bridge, torches off, weapons out, crouched low to avoid any possibility of being seen.

“Stop.” Jack hissed suddenly, his arm a surprisingly strong barrier across Mark’s abdomen. Jack pressed a finger to his lips, and pointed at his ear. Mark listened hard, staring at him.

Mark could hear footsteps, still distant, but getting louder. They were heavy-sounding, and fast, as if someone was running. “Plaguers?” Jack breathed, after Mark indicated he heard it too.

“I don’t know. This can’t be good.” Mark said, grabbing Jack’s sleeve and pulling him down behind a car.

Jack felt waves of fear rolling in his stomach. Mark pulled a rifle from his pack, checking to see if it was loaded, and clicked the safety off. The footsteps were louder now, and Mark could also hear the noises of more pairs of feet running. 

“Someone’s being chased.” Jack said, crouched at Mark’s side. 

Mark took a deep breath, then stood up far enough to see over the roof of the car. He readied his gun, and just as the pounding steps seemed to be deafening, a figure hurtled around the corner, trailing scraps of black. They were being chased, much like Jack had said, and by plaguers, Mark realised, as their rotting skin came into view. The figure leading was dressed in dark clothes, and their running was too coordinated and smooth to be a plaguer.

Mark stepped out into the road, aware that Jack was following right behind him. “Stay back.” he warned. 

“No.” Jack said, in a tone that didn’t invite argument, and unsheathed two of his knives.

Mark raised the gun, closing one eye and exhaling. He lined up the marks, squeezed the trigger. The leading plaguer collapsed, and the running figure slowed momentarily at the gunshot, looking over its shoulder, before continuing on their dash down the street. Mark fired again, missed, then again, and the other plaguer crumpled, its momentum sending it skidding into the concrete.

The running figure was almost upon them now, close enough that Mark could see the details of their clothes, yet they weren’t slowing down. Mark didn’t have time to reload, and figure grabbed the barrel of his gun as they flew at him, smacking it away. Mark was knocked onto his back, his rifle skittering away, the figure straddling his waist. Two small hands clutched a blade, and they lifted it above their head, reading to swing it down.

Jack threw himself at the dark-clothed person, sending his entire bodyweight at them. He kicked the rifle back at Mark, and seized the wrist of the stranger, pinning it above their head and kneeling on their other arm. It was a girl, Jack realised, slender, surprisingly strong, with a streak of black paint across her glittering eyes.

“Get out the way, Jack.” Mark said, on his feet, with his gun pointed at them.

“Wait, Mark, you can’t!” Jack said, so shocked the woman almost managed to wriggle away.

“She was going to kill me! And you, most likely!”

Jack looked down at her. She stared back with defiance, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I won’t let you kill someone who isn’t infected.” he said, fiercely, glaring back up at Mark.

A silent second passed, then several things happened at once.

Two huge black and tan dogs burst through the empty front window of a store, teeth bared, feet pounding on the cement. Jack swore, rising to his feet, too slow, as a man jumped out after the dogs, swung a baseball bat, and cracked Jack around the head. Jack crumpled, and Mark let out a shout, before Mark was shoved down onto the ground for the second time in about five minutes.

The man stood over Mark, aiming the knife he’d produced from somewhere at his face. “Who the fuck are you?” he snarled. 

Mark raised both hands, palms up, in a sign of defeat. “We’re just passing through, friend.”

“That’s that’s true, friend,” the scavenger replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “Why were you pointing a fucking gun at her?” He gestured to his counterpart. One of the dogs, the black and brown one, barked.

“I killed- the plaguers, they were chasing her. And then, she just fucking attacked us so, of course, I was gonna point my gun at her-” Mark spluttered.

The female scavenger was on her feet now, adjusting her layers of clothing from where they’d been rumpled in her struggle with Jack. She had knives strapped to the tops of both legs, as did the man standing above Mark, yet neither of them seemed to be carrying guns or ammunition.

“Please,” Mark said, desperately, “We’re just trying to get through. I’m with… I’m with Scarab.”

The scavenger looked surprised at this. “Scarab? They’re still around?” Mark nodded. “I’ve carried messages for them before.” The scavengers shared a look. The man sighed deeply, contemplating. “I’m Felix.” he said, reaching down to give Mark a lift up. “You’re lucky you ran into us and not some other scavengers, most of them don’t like Scarab all that much.”

Mark immediately knelt by Jack’s side, lowering his ear to over the other’s mouth, listening for his breath. “Er..,” Felix said, “Sorry about hitting him so hard. He wasn’t even the one with the gun, but I figured Marzia was in danger.” 

Marzia and Felix. Such normal sounding names for such a strange and ravaged life they were all leading. Mark stood, satisfied that Jack was alive and just unconscious. 

“I’m Mark. This is Jack.”

To his surprise, Marzia smiled apologetically. “This is Edgar, and this is Maia.” She said, pointing at the huge dogs in turn. “Your friend, he’s unnatural, right?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” Mark said, “I think that’s part of the reason he’s so important to Scarab. I have to protect him, we’re travelling to a base.”

Felix paced back to them, from where he’d been checking around the corner of the street. “We should move.” he said, “Those gunshots have probably attracted plaguers. Mark, we’re camping in a hotel a couple blocks over, at the moment. You’re welcome to come with us, but we’ve got to move.”

\---

Jack woke to a splitting headache and Mark’s face inches from his own. He breathed shallowly for a few seconds, trying to remember where he was, and trying not to groan aloud with the pain. He was on a bed. A soft bed, made warm by two bodies and thick blankets. 

Jack was against the wall, so instead of climbing over Mark, he scooched down to the foot of the bed, getting out from under the blankets and carefully laying them back over Mark. He was wearing one of Mark’s sweaters, he realised, a dark green one with a hood and a zip. He smiled at the thought of Mark having the thought to put it on him.

They were in a hotel room, a nice one, though it had been mostly picked clean of anything of value. The blankets on the bed were mismatched, and he figured that they must have been gathered together from what was left in each hotel room. 

Jack stopped to look down at Mark for a moment. He was surprisingly young looking when asleep, reminding Jack that Mark was barely older than him, yet had been given this life-threatening task of escorting him across the country because of some shady rebel group neither of them wanted to be a part of. Mark’s unruly dark hair was falling in his face, and Jack had the sudden urge to brush it back. 

Wow, Jack thought. Chill. 

He swallowed, which made the pain in his head pulse, causing him to remember the reason for his headache. “Fuck.” he breathed. Had they been kidnapped? If so, why were they in a nice bed, and not tied up and beaten?

Jack poked his head out of the doorway. He could hear voices from down the hallway. He crept towards the open door, regretting having not checked their room for potential weapons. 

\---

Mark woke to an empty bed, and tried his best to ignore the strange feeling of isolation that came with being apart from Jack. The mattress was cold when he laid his hand on it.

Mark had carried Jack over his shoulder all the way to the abandoned hotel, and up the stairs to the top floor where Marzia and Felix had chosen to stay. It was a good strategy, to stay high, because despite the fact that a horde of plaguers could block the ground-floor exits, there were many fire escapes that led onto the roof, meaning they would always have a means of escape, yet be high enough off the ground to not be seen from the street. 

Felix had shown him to an empty room with a single bed, and Marzia brought him a pile of blankets. Mark had intended to stay awake, to watch over Jack in case he woke up and was confused, but he’d been so tired that even closing his eyes for a moment made him drift off.

The corridor was empty, lit only by the weak light of the rising sun. Mark heard voices, Felix and Marzia’s, and then, amazingly, Jack’s laugh. 

Mark was about to start down the hallway towards the door, when a hand landed on his shoulder. Mark nearly jumped out of his “Fuck.” he gasped, turning to look at the person behind him.

It was a guy, with a round white mask over his face. “Uh,” Mark said, taking a couple steps back. “Hello.” 

“Hey.” the stranger said, in a very non-aggressive tone, despite the crossbow held in one hand. “Who are you?”

“Uh,” Mark said again. “My name’s Mark. I’m here with Felix and Marzia.”

“Yeah, me too. They in here?” the guy asked, turning sideways to move past Mark in the hallway.

Mark followed him, entering the room as Felix stood and shouted “Cry!”. He and the masked stranger embraced, before he turned to greet Marzia. 

“Mark, you’re awake.” Felix smiled. 

Jack was sitting on one of the beds. “Are you okay?” Mark asked, hurrying across the room to sit by him. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. My head fucking hurts, though. Felix told me what happened after he, well, knocked me out.” Jack rubbed the back of his head, where his stubbly military haircut was starting to grow out in tufts.

“I think we’re safe here.” Mark said quietly, watching the newcomer, Cry, greet the dogs. 

He came over, his white mask still on, and shook Jack’s hand, surprisingly formally. Marzia and Felix had resumed their conversation. “I’m Cry.”

“Cry? Okay. I’m Jack.”

“You’re unnatural?” Cry asked, and Jack’s hand automatically went up to touch below his white eye, a habit born from living for years in fear of being discovered.

“Yeah.” Jack said slowly, “So are you.”

Mark couldn’t see, but he sensed that Cry was smiling. “How could you tell?” he said, almost sarcastically. 

“Is that why you wear the mask? I figured we’re safe out here from any people who would attack us for being unnatural.” Jack said. 

“It’s part of who I am.” Cry said simply, in a voice that didn’t invite more questions. As he turned away, Mark could see that his skin on his neck was a normal light skin colour in places, and an eerie purple-grey in others. Mark looked at Jack, and knew he’d noticed.

“How could you tell?” he asked him.

“Tell what?” Jack replied. 

“That he’s unnatural.” 

“Oh,” Jack thought for a moment. “I dunno. I just could. A feeling, I guess.” 

\---

Jack lay awake that night, Mark’s arm resting against his back, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. 

They had returned to their room after several hours of talking and planning, and a small meal of some canned food that Cry had found when scouting, which is what he’d been doing when Felix and Marzia had first encountered Mark and Jack. 

Their room was a single, and the fucked-up weather meant that sleeping in the same bed under all the blankets was preferable to one of them taking the floor. And the extra body heat was appreciated, Jack told himself. That was the reason he was secretly relieved when Mark showed no desire to change their current sleeping arrangement, and not because Mark’s solid presence beside him made it a little easier to sleep at night.

Jack sat on the bed with his feet on the floor, looking down at Mark’s broad shoulders and tanned skin. They were so different, in so many ways, yet Jack felt so connected to him already. That wasn't a good thing. It wasn’t a good idea to form bonds in this world, as people could die or become infected or turn on you in an instant. 

“Jack? You’re awake?” Mark muttered blearily, twisting to look back at him.

“Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”

“Come back to bed, Jack.” Mark mumbled, already half asleep again. One of his hands bumped Jack softly in the back. Jack sighed. He was in deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so edgar and maya are like great danes or dobermans or something because theres no WAY a pug would survive in the apocalypse. sorry. any questions?? comments?? concerns??? leave a comment :D if you want to talk about fic or youtubers message me on my tumblr: finchboy.tumblr.com


	3. The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang go on their way, meeting friends and foes in their trek to the mysteries rebel group's base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are gonna get gay soon I swear

The five of them rose as the sun set, organising together what they needed and discarding what they didn’t in the hotel. Jack offered Mark’s hoodie back to him, but Mark just waved a hand at him, saying that it suited him better than the government-issued military school uniform that was currently all he owned.

“Marzia gave me some paint, I'm gonna do my face.” Mark said, looking in the dusty, rust-spotted mirror. He applied it as they had, a stripe across the face and one below the mouth. 

“Will you do mine?” Jack asked, coming up to Mark to stand next to him. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mark said, patting his fingertip in the paint. He stepped closer to him, and Jack tilted his face up. Mark touched one cheekbone, drawing his finger across Jack’s nose, and ending the streak of paint before he reached the other ear. He hesitated, then pressed his finger to Jack’s lower lip, dragging a line downwards over his chin. Mark noticed Jack’s throat swallowing, his mouth opening slightly. 

“Done,” Mark said quietly, stepping away. Jack turned to the mirror jerkily, as if broken from a trance. “It looks good,” Mark said, turning back to the bed.

“Yeah, so does yours.” 

Mark smiled as he packed up his rucksack.

\---

Cry had slept in a separate room to all of them, and had appeared with his mask already on. Edgar and Maya had their collars attached to string, weapons were checked and re-checked, and rucksacks were fastened around shoulders. 

“I know a guy who can get us a vehicle.” Felix said as they climbed the fire escape.

“Why haven’t you mentioned that before?” Cry asked, from the bottom of the steps. 

“Well, we’ve never had this many people to travel with.” He replied, “And now that we have a set destination, it seems worth it to use up some favours.”

“Hey, man.” Mark said, climbing onto the roof after Felix, “Thanks for all this. You didn’t have to, you could have just left us, so I owe you a lot.”

“Yeah, or you could have killed us.” Jack said from behind Mark. 

“It’s nothing,” Felix said, smiling, “I’m happy to be helping you.” He turned, leading the way across the long expanse of flat rooftops. “I’ll be honest, I think Scarab are overzealous in their actions, but I do think they’re our best bet, compared to how corrupt the government is at the moment. If by helping you, we’re helping Scarab in their rise to power, then I’m at your service. The government has done too many terrible things. They need to be stopped.”

\--

Despite having spent the last ten years of his life under strict military school rule, Jack managed to keep up with the group as they scaled buildings and ran over rooftops. He’d snuck out of school many times, and often would have to climb fences or walls to escape. Jack admired how smoothly the scavengers moved over the skyline, seeming to know where to place their feet without even looking. The mask didn’t seem to hinder Cry, despite it looking completely opaque. Marzia often had to take even longer routes than the rest of them, as she had the dogs with her, who couldn’t cross the larger gaps between buildings, yet she never fell behind.

Mark was also surprisingly agile, Jack noticed, but he seemed pretty puffed out when they stopped to let Cry or Marzia check ahead. He was built for fighting, and despite having good stamina, he wasn’t used to such long stretches of steady pace. 

“It’s just a little further,” Felix told them as they dropped down into a alleyway between two apartment complexes. They were reaching the edge of the ghost town, and the general rubble and destruction had got worse as the moved outwards. He led them to a place that had once been a car repair shop, by the looks of the signs, but there was no evidence of any tools, parts or vehicles. Jack guessed the whole place must have been emptied of useful items soon after the Fall.

“Ken?” Felix called. “It’s Felix. Remember me?” 

All five of them stared up at the dark windows. “You think they still live here?” Cry asked.

“Ken?” Felix shouted again. 

A window flew open on the second floor of the apartment next to the shop. A woman’s head appeared, her long dark hair swinging forward. “Felix? Is that Marzia? And Cry? What the hell are you doing here?” She was Australian, Jack realised. He really had met a lot of non-Americans, despite being right in the centre of America.

“We were passing through,” Felix said, “We ran into… well, we need your help.”

\---

Ken turned out to be a big, friendly guy, with a beard and fierce eyebrows. Marzia and Felix, with help from Mark, took turns explaining to Ken, and the woman, his girlfriend Mary, who Jack and Mark were, and their importance to Scarab.

“Scarab, huh?” Ken said, looking at Jack. Used to Mark answering most questions, Jack stared back at him for several seconds.

“Yeah. I’m important to them, for some reason.” Ken took in his blank eye, his green roots. He nodded slowly. 

“Alright. I’ll help you out. Mostly because I owe you one, Felix, and because I also want to see somebody kick the government’s ass, even if it is Scarab.”

Ken showed them through to a large garage area, mostly empty except for some rusting cars and derelict vans. “Look, I don’t know if you’re going to be able to bring it back to me, so I'm not gonna send you off with one of my best cars, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Ken. As long as it can carry us all, and is pretty durable, we’re good.”

“Here,” Ken said, stopping by a large shape covered by a sheet. Mary let out a bubble of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Really?” She said, through her giggles, “That one?”

Ken dragged the sheet off, revealing a bright yellow and black school bus. “Are you kidding me?” Cry said, laughing.

“It’s durable, and can carry you all.” Ken shrugged.

Mark smiled faintly. He wasn’t sure where Cry was from, but he sounded American, so he figured it was only the two of them from their group that had ever gone to school in a bus like this. He remembered sitting with his friends, talking about video games and sports and comics. Vivid memories of his life before the Fall were rare nowadays, but this one made a strong twist of nostalgia and sadness go through him as he realised that he had no idea where most of the people he’d known at school were now.

“I dibs the back seat!” Cry said, jumping up the steps through the open doors. “C’mon guys.”

“Thanks again, Ken. And you, Mary.”

“It’s nothing. Just, Felix?”

“Yeah?” he said, as the rest of the group got onto the bus.

“If you find Scarab, or, well, if you come across a settlement, a place with a lot of people away from a city, I’d appreciate it if you would get the news back to me somehow. Mary and I, we enjoy this life, scavenging, but I think we could find safety in numbers. This town, it’s dead, and less and less people are passing through each month. I feel like you lot will be the last in a long time.”

“Of course, Ken,” Felix said, “After this is over, I’ll come right back and tell find you two.”

Mark had a sudden thought. “Ken, Mary, be careful over the next few weeks. Me and Jack escaped from the nearest city and there might be some army crawling around soon. I know what they do to scavengers isn’t pretty, so stay safe.”

“Thanks Mark.” Mary said, smiling at him.

\---

Jack watched the broken cityscape fall behind them, and the shrubbery and fields rise to take the place of the dead metropolis in the windows of the bus. 

Mark swung around the seat in front of Jack to sit next to him. Cry was stretched out asleep in the back, Felix was driving, and Marzia was keeping him company in the row behind the driver. The dogs were both lying beneath the seats near the front. 

“Hey.” Jack said. 

“Hi.” Mark said, with a tired smile. “I’ve told Felix where we’re headed, he said he knows how to get to that area.”

Jack nodded, returning his gaze to the scenery rolling by outside. “Are you scared?” Jack asked, quietly, not looking away from the window,

Mark was startled by the question, and thought for a couple seconds. “I don’t know, Jack.” he said, “I guess so.”

Mark stared at the side of Jack’s head, the curve of his ear, the line of his jaw. “I’m scared of dying. I’m scared of… losing you.” 

Jack turned to look at him. “Right. Because I’m essential to Scarab.”

“No, because we’re- friends now.” Mark felt himself start to go red. “I don’t want any of us to get hurt, now that I care about them.” he finished, lamely. Mark internally cursed. What did he even mean by that? 

Jack seemed to accept it, though, and tipped his head back to press against the headrest. He was still wearing the hoodie, Mark noticed, his hands buried deep in it’s pockets. 

They sat like that for long time, shoulders pressed together, watching the scorched dirt flash by. 

“Are we slowing?” Jack asked, lifting his head to peer over the tops of the seats. “Hey! Felix, what’s happening?”

“We’re stopping.” came the reply, “The dogs need a piss.”

“Well, I could do with stretching my legs.” Mark said, looking up at Jack.

Despite the coolness of the nights, the days are as hot as ever, and they all have to squint against the sun until their eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. The dogs trot off to investigate the surrounding area, and the group spread out to examine the cars left abandoned on the highway.

“Don’t go too far, okay?” Mark says, grabbing Jack’s sleeve as he started to walk away.

“Okay, dad.” Jack muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Jack finds Cry leaning into the cab of a truck. “Anything interesting in there?” Jack asked, tugging his shirt away from his skin where the heat made it stick to him. 

Cry pulled out a corpse. “Oh, Jesus,” Jack cried, jumping back and it dropped past him onto the ground. “Fuck.” he breathed. It was a man, young and strong looking, with a hole in the side of his head, crusted with dried blood. His skin was discoloured and he was definitely on his way to decomposition. “Gross.”

Cry crouched down next to it, “He hasn’t been dead long. A week, maybe.”

“What killed him?”

Cry pointed to a gun held in one lifeless hand. “Oh.” Jack said. 

“Take it. We need any weapons we can get.” Jack obediently pried it from the dead man’s stuff fingers.

Cry stood and slid into the truck. “Hey, the keys are in here.” he said in surprise. Jack stared at the outside of the van. It’s red paint was covered in long, shallow divots. Scratches, Jack thought, but from what? He hadn’t seen many animals around, and they didn’t look like marks that would come from driving through undergrowth or a forest.

Jack jumped at the sudden sound of barking dogs. Cry dropped back onto the road. “Is that Edgar and Maya?” he asked.

Jack climbed into the bed of the truck. “What are they running from?” Cry said, slowly. Jack peered over the tops of cars. 

His breath caught in his throat. “Plaguers. A lot of them.”

“Fuck,” Cry said, “The dogs are drawing them to us. They- fuck, they follow noise. Felix!” he shouted, “Felix! Get in the fucking van! Plaguers!”

Jack saw Felix grab Marzia, then both the dogs, throwing them into the bus. 

“We should get back to the bus, Cry,” Jack said, about to jump out of the truck bed.

“Shit, no, no time. I’m gonna get this truck to work.” Cry said, leaping into the cab.

Mark was a little further from the bus than Marzia, and Felix didn’t reach him in time, as one of the leading Plaguers lunged forward from behind a car. Jack watched in horror as it grabbed Mark’s backpack, clawing for his head. Jack didn’t even think. He pushed from his mind how close the Plaguer was to Mark, how dangerous it was to shoot at two moving targets from this distance. He raised the gun. He lined up the sights. He fired.

The Plaguer crumpled. Mark turned with an open mouth, his residual terror evident even at this distance, to stare at Jack. Jack lowered the gun, as Felix reached Mark and dragged him to the bus.

The resulting bang had caught the attention of the remaining Plaguers, though, and all of their head turned on their necks simultaneously to look at Jack. “Fuck.” he breathed, as some started to run for him, others starting to try to get inside the bus. Jack realised that the scratches on the side of the truck must be from Plaguer fingernails. 

“Jack!” Cry shouted, “Tell Felix to go, we’ll follow him.”

“Felix!” Jack relayed, “Leave! We’ll be right behind you!”

Jack saw Mark’s worried face flash by as the bus drove past, dodging cars and shedding Plaguers that had crawled up the sides and were now falling off due to the sudden speed change.

Jack heard Cry try to start the engine, but it puttered out after a few seconds. “Cry-” Jack said, raising the gun to aim at the nearest Plaguer, which was getting dangerously close to the truck. “Wanna get us moving?”

“I’m trying, Jack, keep them off the truck.”

“The fuck do you think I’m doing?” Jack muttered to himself, shooting the Plaguer between the eyes. 

“Nice shot, kid.”

The Plaguers were almost at the truck now, so Jack opened the cab door and slid in next to Cry. The engine roared into life just as a Plaguer threw itself at the door’s window next to Jack. Jack yelped, and smacked Cry on the arm. “Fuckin’ drive!”

\--

“He’s okay, Mark, Cry knows what he’s doing.”

Mark sighed and didn’t look away from the window. They were in the bus, probably already several miles away from where he saw Jack last. The sight of him standing in the truck bed, legs apart, staring into the face of death to save Mark’s ass was imprinted into his mind. So was the image of the Plaguers overrunning the truck and ripping out Jack’s jugular with their teeth.

“Mark?” Felix said again, “He’s going to be fine. I trust Cry.”

\---

Meanwhile, Jack was regretting his decision to trust Cry.

“SLOW THE FECK DOWN!” Jack shouted, as Cry wildly swung between cars, sending Plaguers flying as he drove right through the horde.

“Wow,” Cry said breathlessly, “Your Irish really comes out when you're angry.”

“Dude, do you even know how to drive?” Jack shouted, clutching the dashboard as Cry braked, stopping the truck, then accelerated again.

“Uh,” Cry muttered, “In theory.”

“Cry!”

“What?!”

“You’re going to kill us!” 

“No,” Cry said, “but those will.” he added as another Plaguer threw itself at the window. 

\---

“What's wrong?” Cry asked, about a half hour later. They were driving slower, on almost deserted roads, empty of Plaguers or cars. Jack didn't reply, continuing to stare out the window with half-closed eyes.

“Missing your boyfriend?” Cry tried again, and Jack turned his head sharply.

“He's not my boyfriend.” 

“Uh, well, whatever you call each other. Partner. Significant oth-”

“We’re not together, Cry,” Jack said slowly. “Me and Mark. We’re- not together.” he said again.

“Oh,” Cry said said, sneaking a glance at Jack. “Oh. Uh. Sorry then, I didn't realise.”

Jack pressed his lips together, sighing. “He's probably straight.” he muttered. 

Cry laughed, then pressed his fist to his mask. “Sorry, it's not funny but, come on, kid, you slept in the same bed! Marzia thinks you're together!” 

“He's a merc! It's his job to protect me.” Jack protested.

“There's a difference between protecting and following you around the room with doe eyes.” 

“He doesn't do that.” Jack grumbled.

“Look, I don't know if this will make you feel better about it,” Cry said, “but I used to have it pretty bad for Felix.”

“Felix?” Jack said, eyebrows raising in surprise, “Did you tell him?”

Cry coughed, “No, I mean. No. We met Marzia not long after he and I started scavenging together, and well, it was pretty obvious he liked her from the beginning.”

Jack thought of Felix, with his snarky sense of humour and bright blue eyes.

“I don't blame you,” Jack said, “He's a pretty great guy.”

“Yeah,” Cry replied, voice soft. “He's been pretty great to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KILL ME idk how to write Cry sorry I hope this is good??? there might be a chapter called 'the road pt ii' later idk

**Author's Note:**

> send me a message on tumblr! finchboy.tumblr.com  
> if you are confused about anything, leave me a comment!


End file.
